


Braking for the Innocent

by casual_distance



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Angry Sex, Frottage, Hate to Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5615368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casual_distance/pseuds/casual_distance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unruly pigeon and a parked Impala named Baby play matchmakers to two of the most stubborn people Baby has ever had the pleasure of meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Braking for the Innocent

**Author's Note:**

> I came across [Awful AU #39](http://awful-aus.tumblr.com/post/112130577654/awful-au-39) (“I rear-ended you because you braked for a pigeon” AU) and immediately thought of writing a prequel to my ficlet [100 words (sept. 28)](http://casualstories.tumblr.com/post/130060464473/100-words-sept-28). It ended up being a whole other fic.

Dean comes out of Gabriel’s Custom Ice Creams to find a man standing next to the Impala, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed, head titled to the side. Dean frowns and comes around to stand next to him, following his line of sight only to discover that what he’s staring at is the bumper of another car smashed into the side of the Impala.

“What the fuck!” Dean swears, dropping Sam’s pint of ice cream and rushing forward to press his hands to Baby’s abused side. “Oh, Baby,” Dean croons. He traces the long scratch that’s been gouged into her and makes pained noises. Abruptly he remembers the man and turns to glare at him.

“Is this your car?” Dean asks as he climbs back to his feet, pointing at the ugly beige monstrosity that’s _violated_ Baby.

The man blinks. “Yes, I was-”

“What the fuck, man?” Dean interrupts, stepping forward to push into the man’s space. “You don’t just hit a classic like Baby. What’s wrong with you?”

The man narrows his eyes. “Well, I didn’t mean-”

“What the fuck were you doing anyway?” Dean doesn’t want to hear the man’s excuses. 

The man just glares. “It doesn’t matter. I can pay for the damages. Just tell me where you’re taking it and I’ll cover it.”

“Oh, no. I’m not that dumb,” Dean returns. “You’ll never show.”

The man rolls his eyes and fishes his wallet out of the pocket of his overcoat. He shoves a business card against Dean’s chest with a defiant look, mouth pinched, eyes narrowed.

Dean looks down at it and starts to leave. Only- “Let me see your driver’s license.”

“What?”

Dean waves the card at him. “I don’t know that this is legit for all your embossed name, Mr. Novak,” Dean sneers.

“Why would I-” he starts, then stops and shakes his head. “Never mind.” He hands over his license and Dean compares, taking a moment to jot down his address over the man’s protests. He digs his wallet from back pocket and pulls out his own business card.

“I’m taking Baby there.”

“This is your business,” Novak returns.

“Yeah, lucky for you, huh? At least you won’t get shafted by an unscrupulous mechanic.”

Novak snorts. “No, just one with a bad attitude.”

“Hey, fuck you, dude. You’re the one that drove into my _parked_ car.”

“Whatever,” Novak growls. “You’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Count on it,” Dean shoots back.

Novak sends him one last dirty look and then climbs into his car, backs away (carefully at least for all that he glares at Dean) and takes off. Dean spends a few more minutes cooing at his poor girl before he scoops up Sam’s ice cream and heads home.

 

* * *

 

As the rest of his crew begins packing up to go home, Dean scoffs to himself. He’s not seen or heard from Novak all day, not that Dean really expected to. Men like that, with gold embossed business cards made of thick, heavyweight paper, thought they owned the world.

Dean locks the door behind Charlie as she leaves for the day. She waves at him before ducking into her car and taking off. Dean heads back to the garage, where the main bay door sits open and Metallica blares. He pulls Baby around and starts assessing the damage. He’s halfway through an engine check, figuring she’s due for some maintenance anyway, when someone clears their throat.

He jumps, head slamming into Baby’s open hood.

“ _Fuck!_ Goddamn mother fucking piece of- what are you doing here?” Dean yells when he sees Novak standing beside Baby, biting his lip to (poorly) hide his amusement. Dean clutches at the back of his head and glares.

“I, uh, couldn’t get out of work until now. I heard the music and-”

“Thought you’d cause damage to my person as well?” Dean checks his hand for blood; there’s none, not that he really expected it. When he looks back at Novak, the man’s face is closed off, his eyes dark with annoyance.

“I came to give you my billing information so that you could just charge the final cost. I don’t think we need to bother each other more than necessary.”

“Yeah. Sounds good. Come on.” He leads Novak to the office, detouring to wash his hands, and boots up the computer. It whirrs to live, thankfully quick since Charlie got her hands on it and upgraded everything about it. Dean opens his personal client sheet and tabs open the billing section. Novak sits quietly on the other side of the desk, wallet held against his thigh.

Dean reels off each question and Novak answers, voice devoid of inflection. When he gets to payment information, Novak hands him a credit card. Dean takes it, then does a double take. Involuntarily he whistles.

“Jesus. You _are_ loaded.”

Novak blushes and stares down at his lap. “I own my own business.”

Dean blinks, taken aback by the shyness on Novak’s face. 

“Uh, that’s cool,” Dean finally says, wincing internally. It’s not like Dean doesn’t own his own business, even if he’s not as successful as Novak. He turns his attention to entering Novak’s credit card information, glancing up occasionally at the man.

Novak doesn’t look at him again; instead he fiddles with his wallet, picking at the seam. Now that Dean’s not focused on hating the guy’s guts, he takes in the fact that the guy is… not really what Dean thought he was. He’s wearing a suit, but it doesn’t fit quite right, like he bought the first one he saw right off the rack. As Dean watches, he reaches up and tugs on his tie, loosening the knot and leaving the tie askew down the front of his shirt. He’s wearing the overcoat again and it bunches up around his hips in the chair.

His hair is a mess, like he couldn’t keep his hands out of it during the day, and he has the scruff of a few days gone without shaving. Dean images what he’d look like in jeans and a t-shirt and suddenly finds himself blushing. He ducks his head and focuses back on the computer. He zooms through the last few pieces of information before pushing Novak’s credit card back across the desk to him.

He smiles at Dean as he takes it and sticks it in his wallet. Dean clears his throat. He stands and leads Novak back into the garage. They come to a stop by the Impala and Dean palms the back of his neck.

“So, um, I’ll get Baby’s work done and let you know.”

“Of course, Dean. Thank you.”

Dean shrugs. “Hey, you’re paying for it.” After a brief pause, Dean frowns. “You never did tell me what happened.”

Novak flushes and looks away. “Well, I was going to park, but a, um, a pigeon flew out-”

“Hold up.” Dean stares at Novak. “Did you just say you hit my car because of a pigeon?”

Novak frowns at him. “Yes. I was trying to avoid-”

“Oh hell no. No.” Dean points at him. “You don’t fucking hit my baby for fucking _bird_! Birds fly; they don’t get run over!”

Novak’s eyes narrow as his frown deepens. “I am not going to needlessly endanger an animal for- for- for a hunk of metal!”

Dean gapes. “Baby is not a hunk of metal, you asshat,” Dean shouts at him.

Novak’s shoulders go back as his eyes go dark and hard. He jabs a finger at the Impala. “ _That_ ,” he emphasizes with disgust, “is a piece of metal.”

Dean steps up into his face. “Look, asshole, just because you drive a crappy car doesn’t mean that-”

“My car is not crappy,” Novak growls back, fisting his hand in Dean’s shirt.

Dean grabs Novak’s tie, twisting it around his fingers and jerking on it. He sneers in Novak’s face. “You’re right; it’s worse than crappy and it goddamn violated my girl.”

Novak’s eyes go wide, anger flashing through them, before they narrow down again, and then Dean finds himself slung around and shoved up against the Impala by Novak’s hold on his shirt. Dean opens his mouth to retaliate, but his hand is pulling on Novak’s tie, dragging the man closer to him and they’re kissing with tongue and teeth. Novak’s body is hard against him, pressing him into the cold metal and glass of Baby’s doors, and Dean can’t help the moan that escapes him.

Novak pulls back, panting. “You’re infuriating,” he growls into Dean’s mouth.

“Whatever,” Dean mutters, focused on sliding down the car to pop open the back door. He keeps his grip on Novak’s tie and jerks him into the Impala’s backseat after him. Novak immediately climbs over him, using his body to press Dean down against the seat. Dean groans and lets go of his tie to start working Novak’s dress shirt free from his pants.

Novak pulls away and slides his hands under Dean’s shirt, pulling it over his head and dropping it to the floor board. Dean runs his hands over Novak’s back as the man drops down again to bite kisses down Dean’s throat and across his shoulders. Dean rolls his hips up and it’s Novak’s turn to moan, finally, _finally_ breaking his silence. Pleased with himself, Dean slides his hands to Novak’s ass and ruts up against him, using his grip to control Novak’s movements.

They rock together until Novak gets tired of it and jerks out of Dean’s hold, reaching down to undo Dean’s jeans. Dean copies him, pushing Novak’s slacks and boxers down over his ass, taking a moment to knead the round, warm flesh there. Novak grunts and thrusts forward, getting in his own way, before he manages to get Dean’s jeans open fully. Dean lifts his hips so that he can shove them down enough to free himself from his underwear and then Novak is on him again, kissing hard and fast as he slots their cocks together and starts rutting again.

Dean lets his head fall back, eyes closing as he moans. Novak diverts his mouth, moving down to suck and bite marks onto Dean’s neck, onto his shoulders, across his collarbones. Dean clutches at Novak’s back and rocks harder, enjoying the pressure of his cock against the other man’s, the way the dry drag slowly goes wet with precome.

Novak hooks a hand under Dean’s knee and shifts his leg outward to change the angle of his thrusts and suddenly it’s perfect.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Dean swears, pressing his face against Novak’s shoulder. He digs his nails into Novak’s back and bites down onto his jacket collar as he comes. Novak groans low in his throat and thrusts harder against Dean. Dean’s barely aware of the whimpering noises he’s making in the back of his throat, overstimulated and oversensitive. It’s a relief when Novak finally comes, all but shouting into Dean’s ear and grinding down against him.

When he goes limp against Dean, Dean relaxes his grip, dropping his head back against the seat. He closes his eyes and struggles to catch his breath. Novak rests his head against Dean’s shoulder, one hand smashed between Dean’s body and the back of the seat, the other soothing over Dean’s ribs.

Eventually, Novak sighs and shifts his weight. He smashes Dean slightly, causing him to grunt in discomfort.

“Dean, I realize that I never apologized for damaging your car.”

Dean tips his chin down to look at Novak’s head. Novak twists his own around and meets his stare.

“Novak, man, I-”

“Castiel,” he interrupts with a wrinkle of his nose.

“Castiel?” Dean asks.

“Dean, we’re covered in each other’s come. I feel that we can be on a first name basis, don’t you?”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, okay, point. So, Cas, I might have overreacted.”

Cas hums noncommittally, but his fingers continue to stroke over Dean’s skin and he holds Dean’s gaze easily.

“It’s been a rough week,” Dean offers.

Cas smiles, the corner of his mouth curling up and the skin around his eyes wrinkling.

“I’m sorry I hit your car, Dean,” Cas says.

“Gotta say, the orgasm was a heck of an apology.”

“Ah, yes, well.” Now Cas ducks his head, hiding his face from Dean, but not before Dean sees the start of an embarrassed blush. “I’ve always had trouble, um, tempering my proclivity to subvert a situation where possible.”

“Meaning?”

Cas sighs against his chest, warm and damp. “Meaning I take opportunities where I see them to turn the situation to my advantage.”

Dean blinks at the top of Cas’s head. “What?”

“Well, I saw an opportunity to have sex with a strikingly attractive, if infuriating, man and potentially open the door to a more… amiable, um, relationship with him, and I-”

“A more _amiable_ relationship? Cas, is that your way of saying you want to go on a date?”

Cas chuckles into Dean’s neck. “I highly doubt either of us will find the relationship boring.”

Dean laughs. “Alright, you freak. Let’s get cleaned up and then I will take you on this date of yours. I hope you like burgers.”

Cas sits up and beams at Dean. “I accept your invitation, and burgers are my favorite.” 

He leans forward and kisses Dean then, sweet and gentle and with a hint of teeth, which, Dean finds, the more he gets to know Cas, is exactly the kind of man Cas is.


End file.
